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Forum Saradas  |  Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction  |  Muscular Women Fiction  |  Just another job?
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Author Topic: Just another job?  (Read 61245 times)

Offline Prophaniti

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Re: Just another job?
« Reply #60 on: March 13, 2024, 02:29:14 pm »
O I like Rachel, the person who was hired to inspire terror in a company like this has gotta be crazy

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Re: Just another job?
« Reply #60 on: March 13, 2024, 02:29:14 pm »

Offline hero141

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Re: Just another job?
« Reply #61 on: April 10, 2024, 11:25:03 am »
And Rachel continues...  :) Enjoy!

Her voice drips in disdain, her imposing figure is looming over me. Her muscles, rippling with power, are a silent warning of the danger lurking beneath her seemingly calm and drop-dead gorgeous exterior. My mind races as I weigh the options. Begging for mercy would only further reinforce my status as weakling in her eyes. Running away is impossible. My restraints are so tight. Telling the truth may be the only option I have. I do not want to end up like this cleaning guy, skull broken and bleeding to death on the ground... My God, that kick was brutal... My words come out in a rush.

- Honestly, Rachel. I was forced into orgasm. I swear that I had no intention at all to kiss Denise or Elle as she called herself. It's the truth. I... I didn't mean to fail Aletta. And I don't want to fail you. You are so gorgeous! I would do anything to serve you.

Rachel cuts me off with a sharp gesture, her gorgeous eyes narrowing into slits of suspicion. Despite my situation I cannot help but think what a formidable sight she really is! A stunning beauty. She embodies the perfect balance between femininity and muscularity: every movement of her curvaceous dreambody is accompanied by a flex and ripple of menacing muscles. Her arms are so thick, each muscle sharply delineated and etched with definition, biceps and triceps swelling with man-crushing power, forearms rippling beneath her smooth, taut and deeply-tanned skin.

- You expect me to believe that? Forced into an orgasm? That's the best excuse you can come up with, you stupid fuck? Do you think I will show some mercy if you sweet-talk me, huh? Do you?

Her sudden aggression is unnerving. Despite the temptation to cower before her, I muster all my courage to meet her gaze, hoping to convey the sincerity of my words. I see nothing but contempt in her green eyes. I manage to stammer, unable to hide the desparation in my voice:

- I... I swear, Rachel. I have no intention of betraying Aletta or you. Please don't hurt me.

With a swift and powerful motion, Rachel grabs me under the armpits, lifting me and the chair I am bound to effortlessly from the ground. I marvel at her raw strength.

- My God, Rachel, please, you must believe me. I tell you the truth and nothing but the truth! Don't kill me, please!

Suddenly I feel myself being hurled across the room. The force of her throw is overwhelming, exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. My breath catches in my throat as the sheer velocity leaves me disoriented and helpless. The surreal sensation of the immense acceleration makes my senses reel. The air rushes past me in a roar, drowning out any other sound, the room blurring. Everything testifies to Rachel's unbelievable power. My weightlessness comes to a crashing halt against the far concrete wall: I crash hard and drop to the floor. The impact reverberates through my body, jolting me back to the harsh reality of my predicament.

- I'm going to make you regret the day you were born, M. Rosenberg.

I am hardly conscious, but the pain, immediate and intense, brings me back. I try to brace myself. What can I do? My shoulders and ribs hurt terribly. Pain is all I feel. Everything hurts. I hear the distinctive click-clack of her heels echoing like a heartbeat, a rhythmic pulse of strength and sophistication. Each step is a statement, a declaration of boldness and female superiority. In a haze I notice how blood is still dripping from her right boot, the ultra-high heel is simply drenched in it, but Rachel does not seeem to care.

- You're pathetic. You're nothing but a weakling, begging for mercy like a whimpering dog. You're mine now.

I am in shock. I move frantically in my chair, but to no avail. I am well restrained. I gasp, struggling to rise from the floor, my voice trembling with fear. There is not much I can do but to submit.

- This doesn't have to end like this, Rachel. We can work this out.

She chuckles evilly. Her voice betrays a mixture of amusement and contempt.

- Work this out, M. Rosenberg? Oh, I think we're well beyond that point now. You will make an excellent addition to my own workout routine. I could use something to work out this pent-up aggression. Does that work for you?

The threat is obvious, each syllable dripping with malice, suffocating any hope of escape.

- Please, Rachel. I'll do anything. Just let me make things right.

She tilts her head, a sinister smile playing at the corners of her lips.

- Anything, you say? How intriguing.

With a push from her legs, Rachel propels herself into a series of cartwheels, her muscular arms gracefully supporting her weight. The sound of her stiletto heels echoes through the room, a rhythmic accompaniment to her athletic display. With each cartwheel, her muscles flex and ripple, showcasing years of dedication and training. The lube on her tanned skin accentuates the ultra-defined contours of her sexy bodybuilding physique, the sleek faux leather molding to her ample curves, highlighting every flex and pump. I notice the thin straps of a black thong disappear into the contours of her muscular bubble butt. She moves with precision, each movement fluid and controlled despite the weight of her formidable body. She seems to defy gravity, when she seamlessly transitions into backflips, her physique arcs with elegance, each flip executed with strength and finesse. She flawlessly lands with poise and absolute control in front of me on these impossibly high heels. Dwarfing me. Both hands reach out and I flinch as she touches my naked skin, her iron grip tightening around my neck and crotch, her ultra-long nails digging into my frail flesh like claws. She seductively purrs:

- You think you can escape my grasp, do you? In my world, there are those who lead, and those who follow. And you have chosen your side. Let's start with a simple lesson in obedience. And perhaps, if you prove yourself worthy, we can explore other... arrangements. Hehe.

My heart pounds in my chest as I brace myself for what is to come, knowing that in the presence of Rachel, there is no room for mercy. Only submission. And it is as if she reads my thoughts:

- I leave no room for weakness. No room for defiance. And certainly no room for you.

With a cruel smirk, Rachel further tightens her grip around my neck and balls. I wince in pain, feeling the sharp pressure of her fingers cutting off my air supply and nearly crushing my testicles. And then, for a second time, the gorgeous bodybuilder lifts me high above her head and in an explosion of force hurls me against the unforgiving stone wall again. The impact sends shockwaves of agony through my already battered body. I can hardly breathe as my ribcage breaks the impact. I crumple to the ground, my limbs still tightened to the chair, unable to move. The room spins around me. It has become a dizzying blur of stone and steel mixed with sexy shiny leather and oiled up female muscles. I struggle to regain my bearings. Fuck, my whole body hurts. I am shaking from the adrenalin pumping through my veins. How long will I be able to take this?

- What bodypart do you want me to start with, M. Rosenberg? Want me to break a leg? Crush a knee? Pop an eye? Tell me. I'll be glad to accomodate myself to your deepest desires...

I start crying. Every thought of resistance ebbs away; every semblance of resistance has died. I realize that there is no room for negotiation, for mercy. For Rachel, it is all about dominance and power. And in that game she reigns supreme.

- Tears, M. Rosenberg? How touching. I must say that I didn't realize I was dealing with such a delicate little flower.

I feel my cheeks flushing with embarrassment and I struggle to stop crying. Rachel's laughter rings out like a cruel echo in the room as she scoffs:

- Do you cry every time a real woman plays with you? And this is not even foreplay.

Her laughter subsides and is replaced by a cold, calculating gaze.

- Don't you know that hanging around with female bodybuilders comes at a cost? It's time to pay the bill. Let's make sure you're visible for the audience.

With an ease that speaks volumes of strength, she grasps the back of the steel chair, lifts it  -- me included  -- and positions it back onto the ground, its legs touching and scraping the floor, in full view of the one-way mirror again. One fluid motion is all she needs. My God, she must be so fucking strong. I feel like I have been run over by a truck. Everything hurts. I drop my head in dejection and my thoughts wander to the helpless cleaner on the ground. That kick. Those shots. Executed without the slightest remorse. This babe is a killing machine, a gorgeous monster bathed in the shimmering glow of leather and oiled muscles. And I am her next victim. Tears continue to run down my cheeks. With deliberate grace, she extends her hand, the glint of her long-nailed finger catching the light, and reaches toward me. She slips her finger under my chin lifting my head gently but firmly. The touch is commanding yet strangely tender. As she leans forward, I am captivated by how the shiny material of her top shifts, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her formidable cleavage, her ballooning tits glistening with the sheen of oil, a glow that amplifies their perfectly round form and superior size...

- Enjoying the view?

Her voice is cold and full of sarcasm. She looks down on me with a mixture of disdain and amusement, knowing well that this tantalizing display of femininity completely drives me crazy. I know this is not an invitation, but a deliberate move to assert her total dominance. A weapon. And it only adds to my vulnerability: I cannot help but being mesmerized by her ultra-sexy curves and muscles, this blend of female power and beauty. She is simply magnetic. Orgasmic. And she adds:

- Don't get too comfortable, you sorry excuse for a man.

And suddenly my body tenses again as a huge electric shock courses through me, setting every nerve on fire with agony. I can feel my muscles convulse uncontrollably, my screams drown out by the overwhelming onslaught of pain. Time seems to stand still as I writhe against the chair, my world reduced to nothing but searing torment and unrelenting despair. As the shock finally subsides, I lie gasping for air, my body trembling with exhaustion and shock.

- Jeez, horny fuck! Don't you have any control? You're just like all the others. Weak. Inferior. Pathetic. Disposable.

I grit my teeth against the onslaught of humiliation, refusing to let her see how deeply her words affect me. But deep down, I know she's right. In Rachel's presence I am the insect, the beta...

Rachel leans in closer, her breath hot against my ear as she whispers:

- Let the games begin. And trust me, darling: you won't win any prizes. Unless you tell me everything now.

As she pulls away I notice how her eyes start gleaming with a dangerous glint. From a bag she pulls out a huge black dildo. Its size and girth are simply scary. Holy fuck: will she use that on me? My God! When Rachel notices my shock, her smirk morphs into a triumphant grin.

- I did, Rachel! I really did tell you everything. I swear to God.

Her voice drips with anticipation as she brandishes the huge black monster:

- Mmm, let's see if you've truly spilled all your secrets. I usually use this baby to throat-fuck my victims, ramming it deep down their throats. As an appetizer. If they don't talk, I'll continue shoving it up their ass. And if you think your ass is not ready to receive this kind of monster, you are right. Few men take it elegantly, but with a body like mine there is plenty of muscle power to push it in anywhere I want it  -- however deep that may be.

I recoil in horror at the thought, my mind racing with fear and desperation.

- I... I'm not lying! O God, please! I went to a beauty parlor to have my ass bleeched and there she was: Denise. Or Elle as she called herself. She released me from my penis-cage and started to tease me. I asked her to stop, but eventually she started jerking me off. Against my will.

Rachel's grin widens at my confession, which sounds pretty lame, I have to admit. It is a panicked confession and she obviously relishes in my vulnerability.

- Do you really think I'd believe such a pathetic excuse? Jerked off against your will? By Denise? Get real, asshole... She's probably the best fuck in the universe: men stand in line just to be noticed by her. Let alone she would notice them and touch them... Or jerk them off. Having Denise jerking you off must be every guy's ultimate sexual fantasy. She handles more dicks a day than you touch yours in a month. So, against your will sounds pretty lame. Like refusing water when you're dying of thirst.

With a menacing glint in her eyes, Rachel raises the massive black phallus, its sheer size and girth as intimidating as the muscle-packed sadist looming over me.

- You wanted to serve me, didn't you? Like the submissive bitch you are.

She hovers the tip of the dildo inches from my quivering lips.

- Well, now's your fucking chance. Open wide and show me just how obedient you can be.

With a mixture of fear and resignation, I comply, reluctantly parting my lips as Rachel presses the dildo against my mouth. I am repulsed, but I know better than to resist. I can only hope that by totally submitting myself to this gorgeous sadist, I will save my life.

With a wicked smirk, she commands:

- Now, suck, M. Rosenberg! Show me how much you want to please me. I want to see just how deep you can take it.

I brace myself for what is to come and open my mouth wider, trembling all over. Rachel teasingly slowly pushes the dildo past my lips. The taste of rubber fills my mouth, making me gag as she pushes it inches further inside. I can feel the pressure building in my throat, threatening to overwhelm me.

- Such a good little bitch.

Rachel coos, her tone mocking and cruel.

- You're going to take it all, aren't you? Every inch of it.

I can barely breathe as the dildo goes deeper into my mouth, stretching me to my limits. Tears sting his eyes as he struggles to hold back the urge to gag, desperate to please Rachel and avoid her wrath.

- Almost there...

Rachel murmurs, her voice low and dangerous. I gag and choke as the dildo presses against the back of my throat, the sensation of being suffocated by its massive bulk sends panic coursing through my veins. I struggle to breathe, to swallow, to do anything to alleviate the suffocating pressure. But Rachel shows no mercy, her grip unyielding as she continues to push the dildo deeper into my throat, her eyes alight with sadistic pleasure. Tears stream down my cheeks as I gasp for air, the overwhelming sensation of being violated and helpless consuming me.

- Enjoying the foreplay so far, M. Rosenberg?

As Rachel pushes the 15 inch dildo deeper into my throat, the level of my panic increases. My gag reflex kicks in, my body convulsing in a desperate attempt to expel the foreign object. The dildo presses against the back of his throat, giving me the feeling that my air supply is cut off. My chest heaves in a desparate attempt to draw in some breath. I realize I am completely at Rachel's mercy, unable to free myself from her grasp. With each agonizing moment, the pressure in my throat intensifies, the sensation of suffocation overwhelming me. Tears stream down my cheeks as she keeps the fuck-toy deep down my throat. It feels like ages before she finally pulls it out again, my chest heaving as I gulp down mouthfuls of precious oxygen, a thick trail of saliva dripping from the corner of my mouth. I am left helpless and degraded.

- OK, M. Rosenberg. Time for Big Red. Unless you start to talk now...
 
In a haze I am able to see how Rachel picks up a 20 inch red phallus from her bag  -- it looks more like a small red rubber baseball bat. My God! She cannot be serious. I lose all my inhibitions to keep up appearances. I break. I openly cry now, tears streaming down my cheeks.

- Please, Rachel. ... ... For the love of God. ... I'll tell you everything. ... Anything... What do you want to hear?

My words trail off into more sobs. Rachel merely smirks. I am prepared to tell her everything. Anything actually, as long as she does not use that red monster on me.

- Jeez, giving in already? That's quick. Now, let's see if you're as good at talking as you are at crying. Because if you don't spill every last detail, this little toy is going to become your worst nightmare. And trust me, you won't enjoy it nearly as much as you did Denise's handiwork. If you lie to me, I'll strap this baby around my waist and impale you on it, like I have done with so many inadequate men. One thrust is usually enough to tear a man's ass apart and having his insides oozing all over the floor. Hahaha! So, think before you talk. Was that your load on Denise's arm?

- Yes.

- What did she do?

- She gave me a prostate handjob.

- Did you know you weren't supposed to cum?

- Yes.

- Why did you have an orgasm then?

- Denise gave me no choice. I asked her to stop, but she just continued jacking me off.

- Did you like it?

- Yes. I passed away from the extreme arousal. Never experienced anything like that before. Just like the sex with Aletta. It is sex from another dimension.

Rachel chuckles at my admission, relishing in my vulnerability.

- So, you enjoyed it, hmm? Aletta won't be pleased to hear that her little plaything was getting off with someone else. You're lucky she hasn't torn you limb from limb already.

My heart sinks at the thought of Aletta's wrath, knowing that I am already in deep trouble.

- And how do you feel about this whole situation?

I shrink under her piercing stare, feeling the weight of my betrayal bearing down on me. I hear my voice stammer, barely above a whisper.

- I... I feel terrible about it. I never felt so bad about something so good. I know I messed up, Rachel. I know I deserve whatever punishment Aletta has in store for me.

Rachel's lips curl into a cruel smile, her eyes glittering with sadistic amusement.

- Mmm, good to hear you're still able to produce witty talk, M. Rosenberg. I like that in a man. You're in no position however, to determine if you are deserving. Men determine nothing. Not even  -- or better: especially not  -- their punishment! I call the shots, got that?

I nod silently, not wanting to cause any more anger.

- The thing is that I have been asked to do things to you that I have been doing professionally for years. Things I have developed, trained, perfected in the more than hundred companies I worked for as a high-end, corporate troubleshooter. As a productivity consultant, as I call it. An obedience manager. I never fail getting men in line, in getting the best out of the employees. Wherever I come, productivity skyrockets. Work weeks of 80 or 90 hours become the norm. Working overtime becomes standard. Wages are cut, usually in half. Voluntarily. Without complaints.

Holy fuck! What is this all about? These women are simply ruthless. This Rachel is a bomb.

- Well, let me tell you, M. Rosenberg. Some do complain, but imagine me entering a big landscape office with some twenty men busy at work. I am all pumped-up after a gruelling work-out, dressed in a sleek black leather corset hugging my sculpted torso and emphasizing the swell of my ample chest, matching hotpants clinging to my ballooning glutes leaving little to the imagination and these commanding knee-high, stiletto-heeled platform boots. I am shiny with oil and sweat. And imagine me picking out one of the complainers and ordering him to strip naked. Everything about my look is intimidating  -- from the leather gloves that extend to my elbows to the dark smoky eyeshadow and bold red lipstick. Everything is meant to instill fear and submission. My domme look leaves no doubt that I am in charge. So, however strange the order, he complies. He hesitates somewhat when he has to remove his trunks. I notice the familiar bulge in his pants and I start operation humiliation: "Is your tiny worm getting hard? You like my dominance, don't you? Strip, I tell ya!" As he is standing there naked with a raging boner, he is embarrassed, just like everyone around him. Just the way I like it. His flabby, weak and unimpressive physique is exposed next to my rippling, sculpted muscles in dominatrix outfit. His posture lacks confidence, he breathes vulnerability. He is astutely aware of his physical inferiority. "Is that all you've got? Jeez, that's not a cock, that's a shrimp. And it is erect! Let me help you with your pathetic little cock. I'll show you what happens to those who complain or who fail to live up to my expectations. You're nothing!" And then I kick him in the groin. Hard. Powerful. See, M. Rosenberg, the tips of my platform boots are reinforced with steel. You know what that means, don't you?

I nod. I am totally shocked.

- So, you can imagine that the impact of my boot is devastating: he collapses to the ground, clutching his injured area and gasping for air. He is writhing in pain, groaning, unable to form coherent words. Blood is wetting his trembling fingers. His balls must be somewhere up his throat! "Next time, think twice before you challenge someone like me." Everybody is shocked by the extreme violence, and rightly so. The next few hours I pay a visit to every landscape office in the company and introduce all employees to the importance of obedience, compliance, and submission, always setting a clear example, showing my modus operandi. I always try to refrain from doing too much damage on the first day at the office. That saves my cleaning and legal teams the work of having to cover it all up. That day I only kicked 16 guys to death. Most men are quick learners. Some need some extra work. So, me and my team remain in a company for a week, setting examples, giving incentives, basically getting men in line using sexual humiliation and violence. You should see the dynamics when I jerk someone off in front of his colleagues. Or fistfuck him. Or break all his fingers. One by one. Slowly. Making sure everybody hears the nasty sounds of cracking bones and tearing ligaments. And the accompanying screams of pain and horror, the desparate pleas for mercy. And my mocking laughter. If I am in a forgiving mood, I stop with the fingers. If I am in a bad mood or if the emlpoyee really annoys me, I break every fucking bone in his body! Can you imagine how that affects the productivity of the others?

For the love of God, I wish I would wake up out of this nightmare. This woman is simply crazy.

- So, here's what I'm going to do: I am going to push Big Red down your throat  -- well, it'll go as deep as your guts! And then I'll fix this nice little strap, which is attached to Big Red, behind the back of your head and close the belt buckle making sure it stays deep into your throat. If you're lucky, I'll return after an hour. The slightest comment from your side adds another hour. Got that?

I nod. It is not the moment to bring up the fact that I am supposed to have a meeting with Aletta and that I don't want to be late. I can only pray to God that I will survive this encounter. As Rachel leans over me, I cannot help to notice how her powerful muscles ripple beneath the sleek fabric of her tight black top, the definition of her arms and shoulders is accentuated by the dim light of the room. Each movement causes a symphony of sinewy muscle mass to flex and shift. The veins in her arms stand out in stark relief, coursing with raw power as she holds the massive red phallus. And then she plunges Big Red into my mouth, the massive dildo stretching my jaws to their limits as she forces it down my throat. I gag and choke, my body convulses in a desperate attempt to expel the intruding object again.

- Come on now, M. Rosenberg, surely you can do better than this. Hahaha!

The sensation of being forcibly penetrated by the object triggers a desperate reflex, but Rachel's iron grip leave me utterly helpless. With agonizing slowness, Rachel pushes the phallus deeper into my mouth, each inch of progress is met with a wave of gagging and retching as my throat struggles to accommodate the massive intrusion. Her muscles tense with controlled strength, her biceps bulging majestically as she exerts pressure against my resistance.

- Having trouble, little worm?

My whole body rebels against the violation, I gag continuously and I start to vomit, the taste of rubber mingling with the bitter tang of bile. Tears stream down my cheeks as I gasp for air, the sensation of suffocation becoming overwhelming with each moment passing. My body heaves with effort and I struggle to catch my breath, but Rachel shows no mercy, her grip unyielding as she continues to push the phallus deeper and deeper, her muscles flexing with relentless determination. The pressure in my throat builds to a fever pitch, driving me to the brink of panic. I choke and sputter, my body writhing and convulsing in agony, but it is futile. Rachel's strength is overpowering, her dominance absolute as she pushes me past any form of submission. I am beyond submission.

- Having trouble taking it all, hmm?

Her sexy voice drips with mockery.

- I thought you were supposed to be a tough guy, but it looks like you're just a pathetic little toy for me to play with. And toys break, don't they?

 I want to scream, to beg for mercy, but all that escapes my lips are muffled gurgles as the phallus presses against the back of my throat. My muscles strain against the bonds that hold me captive. The sheer size of Big Red threatens to crush me from within. I struggle to breathe, to swallow, to do anything to alleviate the overwhelming sensation of having this monstrous phallus inside my throat. And then, just when I think I cannot take it anymore, Rachel secures the strap behind my head, locking Big Red in place and sealing my fate. The belt buckle clicks shut with a finality that sends a shiver down my spine, leaving me trapped and helpless. I gag and I gurgle. This is hell. A minute seems like an eternity.

- Bye, M. Rosenberg. I am going to relax in the jacuzzi, surrounded by men who would die to give me a good time. They probably will. Hehe.

I hear Rachel's departing footsteps, the sound of her confident stride fading into the distance.

Offline WittyKatarina

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Re: Just another job?
« Reply #62 on: April 12, 2024, 08:41:18 am »
Damn, Rachel is such a she-beast  ;) ...Especially her super-devastating groin kick with her steel-toed boots. Luv her!  :-*

Offline Prophaniti

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Re: Just another job?
« Reply #63 on: April 12, 2024, 08:59:22 pm »
Ahh I really wanna see her go to work

Offline hero141

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Re: Just another job?
« Reply #64 on: October 02, 2024, 04:01:14 pm »
Sorry for the long wait. I hope it was worth it... Enjoy!

I do not know how long I have been suffering -- it feels like forever.  A mixture of panic and helplessness has washed over me. The initial shock and discomfort have evolved into a sustained torment, each passing minute stretching into an eternity of agony. Time has blurred into a relentless continuum of pain and suffering. My body's involuntary reactions are the only means of protest, the incessant gurgles, gags and spasms convey the sheer brutality of my torture. Every minute drags on, a test of endurance against the unyielding phallus lodged in my throat. How I yearn for reprieve, for release from the suffocating presence of Big Red. I pray to God. How I pray. Suddenly a stunning female bodybuilder steps into the room, her hulking presence immediately commands my attention even though I feel like I am dying a hundred times. She is wearing a sleek, form-fitting white cocktail dress. The shiny fabric clings to her curves, accentuating the tremendously muscular physique beneath. It is the daring neckline that truly steals the show—a daring décolletage plunges to the very limits of decency, revealing a cleavage that would set cities ablaze! Her massive tits are nothing less than spectacular! This perfect pair can only belong to Aletta: huge, firm, round, shiny, the nipples prominently poking through her outfit. The dress is designed with strategically placed slits that extend up her thighs, showcasing her long, toned legs with each confident stride. Her ultra-muscular arms are on full display, revealing vascular, pumped-up muscles that speak of incredible strength. Her long, manicured nails are more than just a cosmetic accessory—they are sharp, dangerous, and meticulously maintained. Each nail looks like a lethal weapon, capable of inflicting pain or asserting dominance with a simple gesture. She completes her ensemble with ultra-high-heeled white ankle boots, adding height to her already imposing figure and emphasizing the lethal strength in her legs. The boots are sleek and commanding, their shiny leather finish reflecting the ambient light. I writhe in my constraints, open my eyes, trying to acknowledge her presence, my eyes pleading for mercy amidst the unrelenting agony. I want to express how sorry I am. I want to submit to her. To her power.

- Mmm, hi Henry.

Aletta's voice reveals a mix of amusement and mockery. My chest heaves with strained breaths, my body wracks with spasms of agony. Speaking is impossible. Bile and saliva are involuntarily dripping from my mouth. Muted sounds escape my constricted throat, a stark contrast to gorgeous Aletta's composed demeanor.

- You put up quite a show! Rachel is something, huh? She never fails to make a lasting impression on the men she deals with. It's not only lasting. It's often their last. Hahaha!

Aletta's gaze lingers on my helpless form, her demeanor exuding that potent mix of dominance and amusement.

- Look at you.

Her voice is dripping with condescension.

- What a manager you are. Tell me, Henry, how does it feel to be utterly at my mercy? You see, I expect total obedience. Unconditional compliance. You are lucky I explicitly asked Rachel not to hurt you too much. Normally, she would have slaughtered you. Consider yourself lucky that you had no idea about the danger you were in. Rachel's appetites with men are beyond crazy: we have had to keep her away from the male employees at our offices, because she had lured the youngest, cutest and most productive ones into a huge room in the basement which she had refurnished as torture dungeon. There they precariously dangled from the rafters, totally naked, wrists bound with thick rope. She spent days ripping them apart limb by limb, crushing every bone in their bodies, hitting them with a baseball bat or breaking them in as part of her martial arts routine. These poor boys did not stand a chance against her lethal curves, meticulously crafted and trained into a gorgeous weapon of devastating destruction. She is so technically skilled in martial arts that her kicks and punches exactly land where she wants them to land. Rachel is careful however, not to do them too quickly. Ruins the fun, she says. And she is right: we like to make our men last. Hahaha! Most employees died horrific deaths there. Some were left alive and were released to tell the tale. Productivity increased by a thousand per cent among the rest!

Aletta steps closer, her towering figure casting a shadow over me. Without a word and with a swift motion she reaches for the strap securing Big Red in place, her fingers deftly undoing the buckle that holds the phallus deep within my throat. I am so relieved as this ghastly thing is finally removed from my throat! I gasp for air, coughing and sputtering, my body convulsing with the release from that suffocating presence. Each breath is a victory, each moment free from the relentless torment is a blessing. Tears well in my eyes as I sit there, still bound and vulnerable, but no longer subjected to that infernal dildo. I feel my heartbeat slowing, my pulse steadying as I focus on regaining control of my composure -- well, at least I try to, because I suddenly start sobbing uncontrollably. I just cannot help it.

- It's the relief. Hahaha! Imagine having that beast up your throat for weeks. Natalya keeps hundreds of men locked up like that. Most have these huge butt-plugs too. When they think their life is hell, you should see their faces when Natalya has entered their cage and performs some of her magic which even the hardiest torturers at the Russian FSB would find totally out of bounds and greatly disturbing. Her favorite techniques involve sexual humiliation, lots of forced sex and severe cock and ball torture. She has the nasty habit to force the guys to watch how she fuck-slaughters the others. It is pure horror. It is reality snuff porn or real-life horror porn. It is not something you wanna watch if you know you are next. Hehe! Unless you enjoy watching the lubed-up curves of a female bodybuilder on full display: dressed in the most kinky outfits she shows off that ridiculously muscular and sexy physique of hers as she tortures dozens of her men to an inhumane death. Millions of watchers spend a fortune to watch her channel. When she sometimes releases the next in line, her lubed-up tits and muscles still dripping with the blood of her previous kills, tears of relief are common...

- ... Please, Aletta. Have mercy. ... Please. ...

Tears blur my vision, but the hourglass silhouette of the gorgeous big-titted brunette remains intimidatingly close and visible. My voice cracks.

- I should have asked Rachel to rip off your balls or break your legs. That's what I usually ask her to do with disobedient fuckers. These mutilated assholes then crowd the pens of our top-echelon management looking for meat to practice and perfect their torture skills on. There are no inhibitions whatsoever in how brutally our management treat these men. Denise for example  -- or should I say Elle  -- has a daily routine in which she does over one thousand man per day. Per day! Can you imagine? Per fucking day. You could be one of them.

- O God, Aletta. Please, I was forced. I would never be disobedient to you. I submit myself to you. Totally. Unconditionally.

Suddenly Aletta's expression shifts and she starts roaring with laughter. I do not understand why.

- I kinda like you, Henry. Fuck, how I love this prank!

Prank? Aletta cannot stop laughing as she enjoys the expression on my face which must be one of confusion and disbelief. She frees me from the cable zip ties that keep me attached to the chair by simply taking them between thumb and index and pulling them apart, snapping them. I drop to my knees in total submission and kiss her ultra-high-heeled white ankle boots.

- You've been granted a temporary reprieve, Henry. You passed the loyalty test. It is something me and Denise love to do: test the obedience of the men we want to keep as servants. Setting up a situation to test loyalty and then toy a little bit with the man in question. Showing who's who around here. Getting them to meet Rachel. She would have gruesomely tortured and slaughtered any other guy. You will learn to appreciate her skills when you are not at the receiving end. Trust me. You will soon find out. Our management has given you the order to get signatures under some legal documents. They all deal with taking over other companies without any legal liabilities. There is a small sum for each board member if he signs. Read the documents and you will see. There is little to no room for negotiation. So, you would better take Rachel and Natalya with you to make sure you get the signatures. Management is counting on you. Failing is not an option. Got that?

I manage to nod. I cannot believe this whole torture was a prank. A fucking prank!

- Get dressed. O, and I will free you of your penis cage. It is no use to abstain from anything when you are on the road with those two nymphos. I don't care how many times you cum. I asked them to be gentle, but you never know with these two. So, obey them at all times. They're maniacs.

--

Half an hour later I am dressed in my most expensive costume, sitting in the back of a huge limo. The limousine's luxurious plush interior is a stark contrast to the steely glint in Natalya's gorgeous eyes. She is sitting sprawled across the leather seat, the barely-there fabric of her red silk cocktail dress struggling to contain the outrageous swell of her chest. Her obviously artificially enhanced boobs blend perfectly with the roided muscle mass surrounding them. Her upper body is simply orgasmic and I lose all reason by just looking at these fabulously huge, firm and ballooning tits! This babe is a total bimbo, a perfect muscle barbie. I can see every curve of her body, which has been sculpted by years of heavy gym work, her deeply tanned skin gleaming with a sheen of oil that accentuates the play of light on her rippling musculature. Bodybuilding has transformed this extraordinary beauty into a gorgeous muscle goddess, oozing raw power and absolute dominance. The dress, a plunging affair that dips daringly low, threatens to reveal even more of her ample assets with every breath. Her legs and arms are left bare and it is easy to understand why: they speak power in every language! Every inch of her terrific limbs ripples intimidatingly: her bulging physique consist of layer upon layer of agonizing and lethal power, sculpted with a fullness that defies imagination. Her biceps are not just pronounced or bulging. They are cartoonesque mounds of the firmest, densest and most hypertrophied muscle mass I have ever seen. As she re-adjusts herself on the leather seat, I notice that her wide back is bare too, a smooth sun-tanned canvas etched with the intricate network of muscles that also speaks volumes about her raw physical power. Her legs are so fucking impressive: even to pro male bodybuilding standards the sheer size and muscularity of her long shapely legs is mindblowing! The deeply tanned skin is oiled so lavishly that I can see very muscular ridge, every striation, every differentiation in her bulging thighs, her tear-drop quads being the most obvious indicator that Natalya does not skip leg day. And her skimpy dress does very little to hide her alluring physique: I get a glimpse of the strip of her thong playing between her obviously wet labia. The elegant ultra-high-heeled pumps only add to her dominant aura. With these pumps fetish meets fashion: I see the extremely high and thin silver heels shine ominously. The pumps' black glossy leather cover and the equally glossy red platforms fitting the color of her dress make a striking combo. They have these potent leather straps with razor-sharp spikes and studs around her ankles. These straps look sexy as hell on her long shapely legs and highlight the extreme definition of her diamond-shaped calves. I have the impression that these spikes serve other purposes as well... A high ponytail swishes with each flick of her head, the only hint of a playful side amidst the aura of raw female superiority she exudes. Her final touch, the one that sent a shiver down my spine, is the glint of her ultra-long nails – razor-sharp and meticulously polished. They gleam under the soft light, a constant reminder that this beauty hides a lethal edge. It reminds me of the brutal scene in the car with Steve. This bimbo is a bomb!

Next to her is Rachel, the ravishing beauty I met before, the sadistic enforcer. She embodies the very picture of an ultra-dominant Amazon: even more so than Natalya, her outfit shows she is a domme, a woman commanding total obedience. Her black leather outfit, a sort of kinky corset, low-cut and shiny, clings to her like a second skin, highlighting her voluptuous muscular curves that seem to live a life of their own. The suit is all about accentuating the wasp-waist of her ultra-sexy torso widening into these immensely broad shoulders, the cleavage of her bountiful breasts drawing my gaze. Rachel is living proof that bodybuilding and femininity go hand in hand. Her muscular physique simply enhances her naturally feminine features: sleek long legs, firm bubble butt, tiny wasp waist, impressive v-taper and curvy torso. Her skin is so shiny, so sleek with the oil she has been rubbed in with. She is literally dripping with oil! Jeez, how sexy can you be? Her powerful physique promises both danger and unimaginable pleasure. Every ripple of her dreambody speaks of raw female power held in check. Her biceps, the size of some men's thighs, bulge ominously, her thighs rippling with each powerful movement. Her long dark hair is fixed in a tight bun highlighting the insane development of her traps and the graceful muscular line of her neck and insanely broad shoulders. Her black leather boots with the impossibly high stiletto spikes are not just footwear. They are an extension of her power: elegant, polished to a high shine, hugging her calves, accentuating the powerful flow of muscle into her legs and ending just below the knees. Domme wear. A confident grin crosses her lips and she winks at me. I notice her full lips, painted a deep berry, and how they stretch into a feline smile. My God, I almost cum there and then. I am so aroused by her alluring presence. This woman is so insanely sexy!

- Having fun, Henry?

It is Natalya. Natalya seems to have noticed my intense arousal and sexily purs the words, her voice a husky caress. Her biceps, the size of watermelons, flex as she leans forward, the expanse of her inviting cleavage threatening to spill out of her dress. I swallow hard and manage to stammer, my gaze darting between the two women. They are not only drop-dead gorgeous, they embody my wet dream, my ultimate fantasy. And they know it.

- Y-yes, of course. Fun it is. My colleagues turn out to be two gorgeous bodybuilders and I have a weakness for female muscle.

Natalya grins.

- A weakness for female muscle, huh? You've been hard ever since you entered this car, you inferior dog. ... He is gonna cum, Rach.

- I know. The visual stimulation is just too much for him. I hate it when men cum without permission. Open your legs, Henry.

I hesitate for the slightest second, not wanting to expose the raging boner in my trousers.

- Open your fucking legs!

I startle at the sudden aggression in Rachel's voice. She is certainly not used to being ignored or disobeyed. I immediately do as ordered and expose the bulge in my pants to the two dommes. I feel deeply embarrassed. Insecure. Both woman seem amused.

- Is having an erection in front of two female colleagues legal ground for having you fired, M. Rosenberg? Does that count as sexual harassment? Hahaha! Don't worry. My legal team  -- which includes some men from your department  -- is used to covering up my sexual transgressions as corporate troubleshooter. I have had lots of complaints filed against me. Usually, some ultra-aggressive legal bullying shuts up the complainers. Or if legal discourse is not enough, Karen, Natalya or me honor them with a visit. They never complain again. Hehe.

A split second later and quick as lightning Rachel launches her fist and hits me hard between my legs, almost crushing my balls. Pain, white-hot and agonizing, explodes through my torso. I crumple in the seat, gasping for breath, my vision swimming. Rachel looms over me, her gorgeous face devoid of any amusement, the playful flirtation replaced by a cold indifference, malice in her eyes.

- Show some control, will you? You don't want your expensive suit to be dripping with cum now, do you?
We have got a board meeting to attend, and frankly, your arousal is starting to annoy me. Do we actually need this fucking legal dude?

Natalya smiles her predatory smile.

- Relax, Rach. I know you stick to your own law  -- the survival of the fittest  -- but we promised not to kill him. He may prove useful. These corporate weasels will fold like cheap suits once they get a whiff of what we have in store for them. What's your plan, spreadsheet-boy? Do you have a plan?

- Sure, I prepared a speech on asset regulation and ...

But Natalya interrupts me.

- Shut up, Henry. Quit the  legal shit. You have us at your disposal: two unstoppable killing machines. We devoted our entire lives to training these bodies to be weapons of mass destruction. Governements invested billions in a genetic engineering programme, advanced roid treatment and elite training to create the perfect soldier and that is what we are: trained to kill, but unfortunately for those who invested in us, only loyal to our own appetites. Power, sex and violence. They should have expected we would kill everyone on the programme and go for our own pleasure. Jeez, scientists: so smart and yet so stupid.

My heart hammers against my ribs at the revelation. I am petrified. In terms of bargaining power, they are excellent. But the violence? The sex? Surely there must be another way.

- We can negotiate, make them an offer they can't refuse. You'll make an awesome impression.

Rachel is visibly annoyed, a cruel glint entering her eyes. She bangs the closed window behind her which separates us from the driver.

- Oh, I plan on making quite the impression, asshole. Those spineless suits will be begging to hand over the property rights by the time I start doing them. Do we have to keep listening to his shit, Natalya? Let's fuck him up.

The window automatically opens and Rachel barks to the driver:

- How long until we reach target?

I can hear the fear and insecurity in the driver's voice when he answers that it's only five minutes but that the traffic is heavy. As the window closes again, a humorless smile plays on Rachel's lips.

- It's that Hank again. Did you hear him shiver in fear? Hahaha! He should consider himself lucky I only broke one of his arms yesterday, Nat. We could have punished him much more severely for being 10 seconds late at the pick-up! Hahaha!

- That's after you broke five of his fingers, Rach, you evil bitch! He is a driver, you know. Needs his hands.

- Men only need their tongue. To lick.

Both beauties roar with laughter.

- Consider yourself lucky, law boy. Five minutes is too short for the total experience, but a little foreplay might work.

Natalya's smile turns predatory as she also turns to me:

- A little intimidation never hurt anyone… Well, except maybe those who do not deserve it. Hehe.

Rachel leans forward, pinning me with a stare that could curdle milk. 

- You seem to have forgotten your place, Henry. We're the muscle, you're the glorified legal assistant. Remember that.

Before I can stammer out a reply, the limo lurches to a stop. Rachel's lips curve into a sadistic smile:

- Mmm, lucky again. The day is not done yet...

And she elegantly exits the limo, giving me a glimpse of her killer ass, a fantastic Brazilian bubble-butt, striations visible all over those glorious glutes.

- Time to play persuader, wouldn't you say, Natalya?

Natalya leans in close again, the scent of musk filling my nostrils, arousing me again. Despite the fear that coils in my gut, a traitorous part of my brain registers the way the oil clings to her impressive form, highlighting every ripple of muscle beneath.

- Having second thoughts about the little soiree, Henry?

The long and sharp nail of Natalya's thumb brushes against my cheek, the touch surprisingly gentle considering the monstrous muscles backing it up. I am petrified.

- N-no...

I stammer, my voice barely a squeak. I can feel the heat radiating from her superior hot-bod, a stark contrast to the clammy coldness of my own. Natalya's lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile.

- Good, because these big muscles get lonely without a little… exercise.

Natalya's voice is no more than a murmur, as she leans in even closer until her breath tickles my ear. Her voice drops to a whisper, sending a thrill of terror and something akin to morbid fascination down my spine. The nearness of her big shiny boobs drives me crazy with lust. She sure knows how to turn up the heat.

- Don't make a sound.

And I feel an experienced hand fondling my testicles through my trousers. Grabbing them. Massaging them. First, her touch is heavenly, but quickly her grip tightens and when her fingers start juggling my testicles, nearly crushing them, I know it is suffering she is after. And my God, how I suffer. The pain is simply excruciating! She is squeezing the life out of me. I want to scream, but the sheer terror of being punished by her keeps me silent. I have learnt by now that the slightest disobedience gets you in trouble. My hands grab the arm she holds me with and I revel at how monstrously big, dense and firm her muscles are. This babe is so jacked! Her deeply tanned skin is so smooth and taut, and I feel the underlying hardness and pulsating life beneath the shiny surface. It is surreal. What a sensation blending with my pain and suffering. Natalya grins when she releases her iron grip. I feel such relief and I audibly gasp.

- Good boy. If I wanted them crushed, they would be crushed. It is not because we allow you to make use of our services during these board meetings, that even the slightest misstep will not go unpunished. Death by castration is the lightest punishment. So you don't wanna know what I have in store for you when I really want you to suffer. Or do you? Hahaha! For now, consider yourself lucky we have other meat to play with. Don't get hard again until we tell you to and we might let you live through this day. Got that?

I nod. How I nod. I am not sure, however, how I will able to comply with her order with two specimens of my deepest sexual fantasies keep walking next to me... When Rachel joins us again, I see how she carefully pulls off a tight black latex glove dripping with huge blobs of a whitish sticky liquid. I have no doubt about what it is and where it comes from. Another look at the limo gives me a glimpse of Hank's face as the driver's window slowly closes. His face is drawn in what looks like a delirium, a post-orgasmic bliss.

- Did Hank bring the bags with our stuff, Rachel?

- Sure, including towels and body oil.

- How thoughtful of him. Perhaps he hopes to be the one to be allowed to oil these babies. Can't blame him... Still one good hand to do it with. Hahaha!

Indeed, who would not want to oil her up? I get excited just thinking about it. The sheer size of Natalya's boobs alone drives me crazy...

- He even brought our bags with paraphernalia. He is so diligent. So pro-active. And he's cute. And eager to please.

Natalya looks with a sly grin in Rachel's direction.

- We may give Hank a taste of the goodies in the bags. I'm sure he would love you giving him some quality time, Rachel. Hahaha! Don't tell me you haven't seen him staring at you.

- Sure, I know, but who doesn't stare when I'm dressed like a fucking muscle domme from a porn flick? Men lose their minds. And then some... There was a red rose in my bag with a note: 'For my favorite boss. H.'. So, sure: I gave him some quality time.

- Yeah, I see. Once?

Rachel chuckles amusedly.

- He got lucky: allowed him to cum twice. I think I like him. The thing is: he won't be able to stroke himself for some time now. I broke all his remaining good fingers too. Hahaha!

- Fuck, Rachel, you're evil! Who's gonna drive us now?

- No worries. Hank will drive. One of our flying doctor is on his way to treat him, as we speak. I didn't kill him, you know.

- No, you didn't. Not yet.

Rachel grins mischievously.

- I promised to pay him a visit tonight wearing my ultra-tight leather nurse's uniform. I ensured myself of the best cunnilingus in weeks. This guy is a virtuoso with his mouth. I might let him live. For a while at least. Hahaha!

It takes all my willpower not to cower and run away in panic as we walk towards the impressive office building while the women continue to talk shop. About sex and violence. About torture fun. And boy, do they love their work! These babes are totally nuts. I fear for what is to come...

--

The opulent lobby of the tech company headquarters does little to soothe my rising panic. It is a sterile, minimalist expanse of glass and chrome. When we enter the lobby, we must be a strange sight to digest. Rachel and Natalya strut their stuff like a pair of predators looking for a prey. With calculated aggression. Showing off their imposing physiques. All heads snap up taking in the sight of these extraordinary women oozing dominance and superiority. Conversations hush, eyes widen in a mixture of awe, fear and arousal. I see lots of men reacting with what must be an involuntary surge of primal attraction, a normal response to such overwhelming sexual presence, I would say. Gazes are drawn to the voluptuous curves on full display. Those male executives  -- most men in the lobby are well-dressed management types  -- drink in their physical perfection, their extravagant outfit only highlighting their brutal physicality. Rachel and Natalya obviously love the attention they are getting. Statuesque and confident, that is how we go into the direction of the elevators as Natalya and Rachel each playfully ask an expensively dressed executive to join them. The guys' faces, a reflection of wealth and privilege, simply pale as their eyes fall on these two imposing female bodybuilders dressed to kill asking them to join us.

- Is there a party or something?

- Yes, and we are the cake. Care to taste?

A split second later both men are roughly shoved into the empty elevator as the doors slide open. Even before the doors close again, the two babes rip off the men's trousers and leave them standing there naked waist-down, their cocks fully erect! Shock is written all over their faces. Their initial arrogance and condescension has changed into a combination of awe and fear. The confined space is amplifying the tension. There is so little room in the elevator that I now and then bounce against the large expanse of Natalya's thigh, her muscles feel like pillars of granite, like touching marble. She positions herself in the middle of the small space, so that we all have perfect view the layers upon layers of glistening female muscles, dwarfing everybody except for Rachel, whose glorious amazonian physique shines beautifully in the bright lights of the elevator. Their muscular frames simply fill the elevator as they both lean in close to the guys, their hands almost inadvertently starting to manipulate the men's crotches, their experienced, long-nailed fingers expertly teasing their balls, cupping them in the palm of their hand, gently squeezing them, massaging them, turning up the heat. Rachel's tongue wets his ear as she sexily purrs:

- Mmm, what do we have here? You must be happy to see us. What floor is the board meeting, baby?

- ... Top floor. 68th.

With a slight nod of her head Natalya orders me to push the button. As the lift starts its ascent, the men are further drawn into another world. A world where muscle babes rule, where female power and beauty are the ultimate currency, where men's only way to survive is obedience. Where disobedience means punishment. Rachel grabs his straining erection and jerks it a couple of times. He gasps in arousal.

- Jeez, horny fuck! You like my oiled up muscular body, don't you? My domme-look?

He nods. Rachel puts on these short black latex gloves I saw her wearing when she returned from Hank, our driver. I do not know where she gets them from, but my God, do they look gorgeous on her! When she notices my gaze, she smiles and winks lasciviously. Is there no way I can hide my fantasies from these beauties? I feel embarrassed. Exposed.

- I may jerk you off too, Henry. I may even wear gloves doing you. I wonder how long you would last... You'd probably not get past my first pump. Hehe. Men say my grip is heavenly. ... Let's see how this executive fuck reacts. Don't cum.

Suddenly I see the executive gulp in shock, a slight moan escaping his mouth, his eyes wildly searching for some reassurance, pleadingly looking at Rachel, whose eyes glint with playful sadism. He looks completely overwhelmed. Totally shocked. I notice how one of her hands is firmly holding his shaft, her thumb and index expertly massaging his cockhead; the other hand has disappeared under his crotch, one of her fingers probably shoved up his ass... Rachel surely knows her way around a guy's crotch! The temperature in the elevator goes from hot to scorching.

- I just gave you the finger. A virgin asshole, right?

He nods again. Unsure. Unable to maintain his composure. Rachel just transformed this privileged alpha-man into an insecure submisssive schlemiel in just a matter of seconds. Sexually humiliating him with one finger up his ass.

- Jeez, you're so fucking tight, but you do have an on-switch, don't you?

Rachel's executive totally loses it. His body starts shaking all over, writhing in front of Rachel's muscular splendor. Her finger must be performing magic inside his ass, manipulating his prostate in ways he never deemed possible, arousing him to the max without release. His cock looks purple with excitement in her gloved hand.

- Mmm, yeah. That's what I thought. Don't even think of cumming or I'll rip you apart. Just breathe in and out. As long as you can.

- Wow, Rach, you are such a quick learner. Men call me the prostate queen, but your dexterity shows plenty of talent and practice. I am not quickly impressed, but here I am.

I notice the sly smile on Rachel gorgeous face.

- Ever since you showed me the secrets of prostate massage, I haven't stopped fingering men's asses! Hahaha! And it is just like you predicted: it makes them so vulnerable, so submissive, so weak. They indeed lose all control. I love it!

Meanwhile also Natalya is playing with her man and God, is he hung. He is built like a porn actor.

- Now, that's a cock! Rachel, this is our lucky day. This dude is hung like Bethany's boytoys.

Natalya gently cups his testicles in the palm of her hand, and admiringly assesses the thick and veiny shaft of his erection, the cockhead shining beautifully.

- Holy fuck, where have you been hiding?

The huge bodybuilder slowly moves her long-nailed index finger along the length of his shaft.

- You're so fucking big and hard. I'm gonna take your big guy into my mouth and suck the living daylights out of you!

I see him nod, his mouth open in awe. He looks in some sort of trance, totally mesmerized by the hulking bimbo in front of him. Being near these two gorgeous muscle babes whose pumped-up brawn takes up all space in this tiny elevator, is indeed one of the most arousing experiences I have ever had. Everything about their bodies is huge, intimidating and reflects raw female power! Their super-sexy outfits highlight their tantalizing muscular curves whose shiny, suntanned surface ripples in response to the slightest movement. Everything about them is perfection, however close you look--and I am so close Natalya that she practically envelops me with her presence. She smells so fucking good! I cannot stop staring at her fabulous tits: they are so big and shiny, her nipples are hard as nails and beautifully pierced. I feel the familiar stirring in my trousers, but I am able to prevent getting a hard-on. And at exactly that moment the executive cums: huge loads of sperm erupt from his monster cock in what seems like an endless orgasm. Natalya's enthusiasm is suddenly gone. My God, she does not look amused. Her facial expression reveals dissappointment and anger, like when you deprive a child of its favorite toy. Quickly Natalya's gorgeous eyes gleam with cold malice, showing a burning desire for revenge, probably thinking over possible ways to inflict pain and suffering. I can see her pumped-up muscles tensing under her shiny, flawless skin, her ridiculously voluptuous body is simply rippling with power.

- Fuck, Rachel, mine just came all over my arm. How fucking stupid can you be? You must have guessed my line of work?

- ... I am sorry ... O God, I am sorry!

- Look, asshole. You are going to lick your shit from my perfect skin and then I am going to punish you for your lack of control. What's fucking wrong with you? I know I'm sexy, but men usually get past the tenth floor...

Offline Prophaniti

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Re: Just another job?
« Reply #65 on: October 04, 2024, 03:46:07 pm »
Awesome stuff man, and I can't wait to see how she makes him suffer for the next 50+ floors

Offline WittyKatarina

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Re: Just another job?
« Reply #66 on: October 18, 2024, 02:41:46 pm »
Hey, great to see you back! And great to see Rachel back too. I keep trying to think who she reminds me of.  ;)

Once Rachel and Natalya start "taking care of business" I expect all the males in the boardroom will start wishing they were never born...

Offline hero141

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Re: Just another job?
« Reply #67 on: October 19, 2024, 10:33:17 am »
Glad to hear you like it. Indeed, they won't be gentle... These men in the boardroom have no idea what they are about to experience.  :)

Forum Saradas  |  Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction  |  Muscular Women Fiction  |  Just another job?
 

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